Child's Play
by injustice.leauge
Summary: FanFiction of Leslie Willis' (Livewire's) backstory based off a roleplay I'm doing with a friend. This is totally made up, and I don't know the real story.
1. Guns

I jumped up as I heard the door open, meaning my mom was home. Excited as always, I ran to the front hallway, hugging my mom's hips, not being that tall. She pushed me away, going to her and daddy's room. I nearly ran after her, but instead sunk down to the floor, staring at the door daddy would soon open. I was lonely. I sat there for another thirty so minutes before my mom came back out. She looked at me, and I stood up, "mummy, wanna play Clue with me?" Daniele Willis shook her head, walking off muttering how kids waste so much time and how she would like a nice shot.

I cocked my head, wandering what a shot was. Did mommy mean she wanted a gun? My eyes got wide, and I ran after her. "Mommy! Do we own any guns?" My mom looked down at me, her eyes questioning. "No." She lied.

I could tell she was lying. I was good at that. "Mommy, you shouldn't be using a gun!" I whined. "Leslie, I'm not going to be using a gun." She growled back. "Now get out." I nodded, skipping out to leave her use guns by herself. In my own room, I wondered if most kid's mom's had guns. I snuck into my dad's office, calling my friend Alice from school to ask if her parents owned a gun. Her dad picked up, already home from work. "Hello?"

"Hi Mister Alice's Dad!" I chirped. "Can I talk to Alice please?" He hesitated for a second. "Sure, Leslie. Just a bit." I sat on my dad's spinning chair for a couple minutes before I heard quiet voices on the phone.

"Rob, I don't want Alice talking to that kid." Alice's mom.

"I know, but Alice absolutely adores her."

Alice adores me? I didn't know what adores mean, but it sounded pretty nice, so I kept listening.

"She's the daughter of two psychopaths! Have you seen her slut of a mother? She's probably not even her real daughter!" I had no idea how she was describing my mother, but her words didn't sound nice at all. I waited for Alice's dad's kind response.

"Kate, the poor girl can't help her parents choices..." he said softly, nearly that I couldn't hear. Alice's mom sounded really angry now. "Rob. Alice will not be talking or seeing her- Alice! Honey! Hey!"

I heard Rob pick the phone up. "Here, Alice, Leslie called." I cleared my throat, pretending to totally not have been listening the whole time. "Hi Alice!"

"Hey Leslie! What's up?"

"Stuff. How about you?"

"Meh. Quinn is totally watching me from outside."

"Ew. Boys are so gross."

"I know right."

"Yeah."

"Mmhm."

"Alice?"

"Yeah?"

"Do your parents own a gun?"

Alice sounded scared. "N-no. My parents aren't insane!"

"Oh. Yeah... right. Sorry for asking. My... my dad's home. Bye." I quickly hung up, feeling bad that I had lied but mad that she had called my parents insane. That wasn't very nice... are my parents insane?"

That night at dinner I asked my parents if they were insane. "Are you two insane?" My dad looked up from his weird brown liquid called beer or something. I didn't remember. "What do you mean, Les Love?"

I always liked it when he called me Les Love. It made me feel less lonely. "I dunno...just... Alice said only insane people have guns."

"Well Alice is insane. Doesn't know what she's talking about." My dad leaned over, kissing me on the forehead. I smiled, nodding and going back to my dinner.


	2. What is Sanity?

I dove off the board, going straight into a strong push, determined to win. If I did, maybe mom would be proud! Maybe Alice's parents would even let me see her again! I kicked harder, those two reasons giving me energy. Going up for a quick breath of air, I spotted my mom. Oh heck. Okay let's not mess up. I continued swimming. After a bit, I could finally see the end of the pool, and I sped up a bit. I touched the wall, pulling myself up.

Deanna Res, snob and complete poop-face, was already sitting on the side of the wall, sipping her lemonade from her water bottle. I growled, wanting nothing more then to punch that stupid smirk off her face when she saw me.

"Oh, Leslie, didn't see you there. In fact, who does, really?"

I got out of the pool, but Deanna got up and followed me, continuing her taunts as I dried off. "Has to do a sport and win to make her parents love her, so sad..."

I hung my towel up, taking my goggles off the top of my head and putting them in my locker, where my clothes were. Deanna leaned against the next locker over, staring me down. "I bet you go home every night and wish you were dead. You know what, goth girl, maybe you should be dead. Nobody cares for you anyways." Deanna taunted, her lip curling into a smile. She leaned forward, whispering into my ear. "Go home, Willis. Go home and don't come out."

I nodded, the threat of tears constant. Deanna walked away to her parents, who were holding flowers and other awards. I ran out of the gym, ran the whole way to my house. Fumbling with the lock, unable to see clear through my blurry vision, I eventually it open, going in and slamming the door behind me. I slid down against it, knowing that Deanna was right. Nobody really did care. My mom was a drunk, my dad was a criminal, and was currently in jail for selling cocaine.

I went to my room, thinking about how normal 14 year-olds interacted with their families. I knew one thing for sure, and that was that I'm not normal. My parents aren't normal.

Am I insane too?


	3. Get Me Out

"Do you think I'm insane?"

"No. I think you're a wonderful young girl. Don't throw your life away, Leslie. Don't go and die."

I glanced away from the open window, gritting my teeth at my uncle. "Now you're assuming I'm going to kill myself?" He shook his head calmly. "You have to much pride to do that. What I'm saying is-"

There was a loud knock on the door, and my Aunt's shrill voice yelled through it. " _DUMBASS_! GET OUT HERE AND HELP WITH DINNER. AFTER ALL, YOU'RE THE ONE WHO INSISTED ON ADDING ANOTHER ONE OF YOUR DUMBASS RELATIVES." I'm 99 percent sure she knows I was in there.

"Coming, Annie. You don't have to yell." My uncle James got up, opening the door and following his wife out, leaving me alone. I slid out of the window, almost recklessly, hanging upside-down from the ledge.

I felt the blood rush to my head, my thighs gripping the ledge. I saw my now upside-down cousin, Marley. I debated letting go and scaring her, but that probably would traumatize a four-year-old.

She skipped through the field, dropping down and looking up at the clouds. "MARLEY!" She jerked up, looking around for me. "Leslie?"

"AT THE HOUSE, MAR." She eventually found me, and shrieked, running over. "Leslie, you're gunna get hurt!" I shrugged, "maybe I will. Hey, do you know what we're having for dinner?" Annie usually told her precious daughter the whole plan for the day, so I'd ask her what we were having to decide if it was worth putting the calories on. "Uh, stir fry."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks." Yep. I'm not going...

My aunt stormed outside, glaring at me. "LESLIE. GET DOWN FROM THERE, YOU..." I flashed a smile before pulling myself up and standing on the ledge, wondering if it would be fun to flip off it.

I laughed to myself, knowing that I'd do it sooner or later. I jumped off, doing a couple flips, something even my mom would be proud of. I closed my eyes, the wind of falling meeting my eyelids. Then I felt the hand ground, but my head was in a bush, so that was good I guess.

Marley was screaming, and Aunt Annie called the ambulance, and I thought I could even hear panic in her voice. Uncle James ran out, rushing over, pushing on my chest, mumbling worriedly.

I closed my eyes, letting my conscious slip.

"She jumped out of a two story building, James. She's..." black. "Leslie has some problems, An-" black.

My eyes fluttered open, actually staying open for more then ten seconds. First thing I could see was a monitor across the room, lines going up and down. Was I in a hospital? I was in a bed, wearing a plain white nightgown, so I guess... I sat up slowly, wanting more then anything for my dad to be sitting in a chair next to the bed, rubbing my leg and telling me I'd be okay. That his brother was right. I wasn't insane.

But nobody was there. I was alone in this hospital room. All alone. I swung my legs over the side of the small bed, holding the rail on the wall to stand up. My shoulder had a stinging pain, and my foot felt weird, but I could walk pretty okay.

My head was the thing that really hurt, and I couldn't think straight at all. I didn't even know what happened. I was talking to Marley and then I was here.

A nurse came in, shocked to see me up and snapping me out of my thoughts. "You really shouldn't be up, dear." The old lady gently led me back into the bed, covering me with the blankets. "There you are." Her pretty Irish accent reminded me of Annie's, when she wasn't yelling. "I'm Mrs Lupe, your nurse for while you're here." She said kindly.

I blinked slowly. Trying to remember anything at all hinting to why I was here. "What'd do- what'd I do?" Mrs. Lupe patted my arm. "You jump out of a two story building, Miss Leslie."

Huh...?

Oh...

I nodded slightly, getting back out of the bed and limped out of the room. Mrs. Lupe came after me, telling me I needed to be back in bed, but I continued walking. I didn't know where to I was walking.

I just knew I wanted to be out.

Out of my mind.


	4. James

I started sobbing my eyes out, Uncle James pulling me into a gentle hug, avoiding touching my arm. "Shh, shh, Leslie. Shh..." I just cried harder, realizing how much I had kept to myself that I wish I could've shared. Realizing I wasn't going to stop anytime soon, he softly coaxed me to let it all out- and I did. I hated that I was crying in front of my uncle, but I just couldn't stop. I started telling him about everything. About my dad, about my mom, about Deanna, about my insanity- which I wasn't proud of, but I sort of actually wanted to be insane.

Maybe it would separate me from my "depressive issues," as Aunt Annie calls my depression and anxiety.

I eventually ran out of tears, but I continued clinging to James and just spilling everything on my mind out to him. When I finished, ran out of things I wanted to talk about, he brushed his fingers through my hair. "Thank you for talking to me, Les. I appreciate your trust..."

I nodded slowly, the threat of tears bubbling up again. "Thank-thanks for listening." He stood up, going out to my door frame. "Of course," and left, shutting the door silently.

I also got up, limping over to my desk and sinking into my chair, propping my foot up on the little chase near it. The doctor really emphasized the importance of putting it up. I mean I didn't really do it but yeah okay. I pulled out my drawing book, flipping to an untouched page. I drew my dad, drew him in prison, drew me on his shoulders when I was young, him smiling as we ran around the yard. Drew him dealing drugs, drew him meeting up with his partner that would come to our house every other week. I drew him at the pool, watching me swim, congratulating me on getting second or third.

I finished, staring at the page for a long time, tears started again, and I banged my head on my desk, ripping the page out and crumpling it into a ball. I wanted to burn the page, wanted to burn it and everything else in this horrible world to the ground.


	5. No Control

"Leslie, James is dead."

The words hit me like a brick, and now they were forever replaying in my head.

"James is dead."

"James is dead."

"James is dead."

"Now you're alone."

Nobody said that. Except me.

But he was the only person who cared.

He was the only person who didn't think I was a worthless piece of shit, for heaven's sake. He knew everything, and now he was gone. I sat there silently, my hands shaking rapidly. My mother gently placed her hand on mine. "I'm sorry, Leslie."

I wanted to scream at her, wanted to scream about how she's not sorry, about how she never cared. I needed to yell at someone, but my mom looked hurt. Maybe she was sorry. Maybe. I nodded slightly, needing to get out before I broke down.

"Why don't you go to your room for a bit, I'll order takeout." Mom stood, leaving and going into the kitchen. I stood up, racing to the door and running outside.

I ran, never stopping. I ran across roads, nearly got ran over, honked at, yelled at by people who had to slam on the breaks to avoid running over a teenage girl. I didn't care. Run me over. I bloody dare you. My lungs felt weak and broken by the time I reached a huge open field. I skidded to a stop against the fence, panting with anxiety and lack of breath.

James couldn't be dead.

He couldn't.

He couldn't die.

He couldn't leave me.

No.

No.

No.

"*NO!*" I screamed to no one in particular, and no one heard me. No one could tell I was even there. I sunk down against the freshly painted white fence, putting my head in my hands.

I sat there, broken, soul and will to live shattered into a million pieces. My skin was damp with tears. Why'd he have to leave me?

I realized how stupid I was being. He had no control over his death. He had no control.

Nobody had any control over anything.

I had no control over my mind.

James had no control over his death.


	6. Darkness

I flopped on my bed, glancing at my alarm clock. 10 PM. I had just got home, and my mom was already asleep on the couch. The front door was unlocked, so I came through there, quietly going to the fridge and getting some lemonade before dragging myself upstairs. I didn't even bother changing before throwing myself onto my bed, sliding under the black covers. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream and be angry at James for dying. But I didn't. I felt strangely calm, actually. My mind was quiet, only focusing on the sound of my heartbeat inside my chest. I placed a hand over my eyes, engulfing myself completely in darkness. I fell asleep like that.

I woke up rolled against my wall, tangled in a mess of black and grey blankets and covers. I threw all them off me, climbing out of bed and shoving new clothes on, realizing I'd forgotten to put pajamas on last night. I heard any mom moan with pleasure from the other room, then panting breaths. I saw a man come out of my mom's bedroom a couple minutes later. He was wearing a business suit, ready to go to work. Probably so his real wife wouldn't get mad or suspect anything. I shook my head, mad at my mom for giving herself up to any man who would pay a couple dollars. She had a good job at the rapidly growing Cat Co as the finical advisor. I knew it wasn't exactly for the money, just that she missed dad so much that she needed someone.

I hated it.


	7. Murder?

I flipped the TV on, stabbing my blueberry muffin with my fork and shoving it in my mouth. I saw James' face on the TV and I nearly choked.

"James Willis, a court lawyer, was found dead a day ago in his Suburban home, bleeding out on the third story in his and his wife's bedroom." A quick sign of "viewer discretion is advised" showed up. I wanted to turn the TV off, but...

The TV showed a picture of Uncle James next, his lifeless body slouched at his desk chair. "The killer is still unknown, and police are coming to the scene today, back to you, Alice." The screen switched again, now to the weather. I sat there, feeling stunned. He was _murdered_?

Murder...

"Mur...der..." I repeated slowly, " _murd_...er." My mom came downstairs, coming into the living room, shaking her head. "You shouldn't be watching the news, Leslie. Screws up your brain. Everything's fake."

"Murder."

She looked at me.

"James was murdered?"

"Yes." Daniele Willis answered, avoiding eye contact with me. "Why?" I asked, standing up. My mom sighed, "because there are some bad people who don't have morals." I stared. "Who killed him?"

"Leslie, really, how would I know?" Her voice shook, eyes getting watery. She was a terrible liar. "Was it dad?" My mom burst out into tears, dropping onto the floor and crying into her hands. I watched, I watched her cry. I watched her sob and sob and sob- and I did nothing. I stood there, not understanding. Why?

Why do people cry?

Why do people care?

Why do people continue trying to live if they're just going to be murdered?

Everybody dies. I let that sink in for a couple seconds. I smiled to myself. Someday I wasn't going to be alive. Uncle James was right. I had too much pride to kill myself, so I was destined to live on this stupid earth forever. I could go to the army and recklessly get myself killed. I could become an assassin. Hell! I don't care!


	8. Help Me

I sat on the bed, leaning against the wall and hugging my knees. I didn't like this place. I didn't like it at all. I needed out, and I needed out now. I rubbed my eyes before crawling off the bed and standing up. I went to the door, which seemed to take hours to get to. I placed my hand on the doorknob, scared of what I could see on the other side of it. What if I didn't like it? What if it didn't like me? What if we hated each other? Anything was better than this room, I sighed. Besides, it's probably more people just like me. What if I was alone? What if everyone outside the door were sitting in chairs, their throats slit and wrists cut like James' were?

 _You can handle it, Leslie. You already see it in your mind. Reality isn't different._ I spun around to see a shadowy figure standing in the far corner of my room. The voice was dry, rough. I noticed hints of sadness, but mostly anger.

 _I can handle it._ The figure moved closer, and I could see it correctly now.

It was a girl, early twenties, probably. Her light blue hair was pulled into a ponytail, two access hairs on either side framing her face. She was wearing black lipstick, eye shadow and liner. Her skin was beyond pale, like the vampires I'd seen in horror movies. She was wearing a black leather jacket, with a blue crop top under it. Her ripped black leggings nicely fitted her legs, strong but still pretty 'feminine' looking. Her (you guessed it) black high heels gently clicked against the floor as she walked closer.

I instinctively stepped back, bumping up against the door. She extended a hand, her blue-painted fingernails just barely touching my arm. _We're the same. If I can handle it, so can you._ I grabbed her hand, her soft skin feeling odd under my own callused and bruised hand. "Who are you?" I asked, quietly. "I'm not you. We're not the same. You're beautiful, I mean. You have confidence!" I could tell this woman, whoever the hell she was, was most certainty NOT me. There's no way I could turn into that.

 _Society changes people. Business changes people._ She replied, her electric blue eyes closing for a second before opening again and looking at me sadly. _Go outside. That's where a life is. Stop... stop being... me. All you have to do is open that door_. Before I could respond, she pulled a gun and shot herself. Right through her skull. I stood there, frozen. Then I swung the door open and ran. Ran and ran and ran down seemingly endless hallways. "THERE-THERES A... DEAD... person..." I realized no one was there. I busted through one of the white doors, "there's a..."

A doctor turned around, his plastic gloves bloodied. There was another man, his eyes missing, strapped to the table.

"Y...you...this... where..." I backed up, running out of that room and continuing down the hallway. Every room I opened, I only saw the same thing. Every time. The two men, the missing eyes, and the bloody gloves.

 _Help me._


	9. Dreams

I woke up on the couch- or rather half on the couch- in a pool of sweat. I glanced around, expecting the blue haired girl or a doctor. No one. I sighed, getting off the couch and going to the kitchen. "I hate dreams," grumped, spooning out some ice cream into a dish.


	10. Happy Birthday

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you." I shoved a cupcake in my mouth. I poured some orange juice into a cup, inhaling that as well, to help with the dry cake. "Sweet sixteens are so fun." I hummed, going outside. It was 11:43 PM. I had forgot today was my birthday, so when I woke up at 11 I grabbed one of my moms cupcakes and had my own pity party. I sat on the pretty broken porch for a while before my mom drove into the driveway. She got out of the car, and from the car lights I could tell she had been drinking and dancing again. Yeah, she pretty much always drank during the day, but when she had a 'client' with her, everything was worse.


	11. School Days

"Deanna, Leslie, would you pass out the papers?" Mrs. Joan _asked_ , eyeing us with her signature scowl. Deanna stood, coming to the front desk and grabbing half of the papers. I also went up, taking the other half. I couldn't believe the woman. Why the world would she put _us_ together? What an idiot! Something was bound to happen, I knew it. Deanna shoved passed me, making me loose my footing and clumsily topple over Mark Asber's desk. I accidentally kicked him in the face, and he yelped, clutching his jaw and falling off his chair. Everyone else in the room just stared as I slowly stood up, like a fallen villain about to swear revenge. I rushed to Deanna, smashing her against the wall. Deanna screamed, and Mrs. Joan called the school's security. Multiple jocks rushed over, trying to help/impress Deanna by getting me off her. I paused from punching her to backwards kick all their crotches, which made them either fall over or retreat. Deanna kept screaming, her nose now bleeding and probably broken.


	12. Skeletons

"Leslie Willis, this behavior is not acceptable." The principal stood, trying to look intimidating. I wasn't scared. I didn't get scared anymore. "This is the _third time you've harmed another student. You broke Miss Deanna's NOSE!" He yelled, ripping a paper out and throwing a pen down in front of me. "You write an apology to Deanna. Now. You'll be on a weeks suspension."_

I picked up the pen and started doodling a skeleton holding a harpoon. My dad had always said I was good at drawings when I was a kid. I loved drawing. It wasn't actually real, and I could erase everything and start over again whenever I wanted too.

Mr. Olivis stared at me, drawing and humming Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen, in disbelief. Normally students would be scared out of their wits for a suspension, and would write an amazing apology letter to try to make them look better. _She just doesn't care, does she?_


	13. Glass

"SUSPENDED?" My mom screamed at me, her eyes wild from drinking. She was only wearing a bra and skinny underpants, so every time she yelled or waved her arms around in exasperation her breasts went up and down, and I would look down at my chest and know I would never be as pretty as my mom. My mother was gorgeous. My dad and I would go on walks sometimes, and he would talk about the first time he saw mom. He always said, "Leslie, you're mother was freaking _angelic_." He always called her _angelic_. In my young mind, I always saw a younger version of my parents bump into each other like in the movies, and that's how they fell in love. My mom and dad were a happy couple. My dad didn't drink or go to many gangs, he had an actual job and was clean-shaven, handsome. My mom always looking _angelic_ , no matter how rushed or stressed she was. I smiled to myself, and my beautiful mother shook me. "LESLIE! ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING?"

"Yes." I wasn't. I was good at lying. No one could ever tell. "I'm sorry, mom. It won't happen again." That's when shit happened.

"LESLIE WILLIS, THAT'S WHY YOU SAID THE LAST TWO TIMES, YOU _INSANE_ KID."

I sat there on the counter, staring at her. _Insane_. I nodded slowly, getting up and drifting up to my room, leaving my mom pissed and drunk. I silently closed my door, seeing the small mirror Uncle James had given me after I told him I wasn't beautiful like other girls. Next time I saw him, he handed me the mirror and said, "Leslie, I want you to put this on your wall, and I want you to look at yourself every day. You're gonna say, "wow. What a beautiful young girl standing here." After I while, I had put the mirror behind my door, since he had given it to me when I was seven, and it was pretty childish. I took the mirror off the back of the door, taking the glass circle out of the frame carefully. Then I smashed the glass against my desk.

I sunk down onto my bed, holding a shard of the float glass. I stared at it for a while.

I cut my thigh with the glass.

I cut my hand with the glass.

I cut my foot with the glass.

I cut my arm with the glass.


	14. Summer Camp

"It'll only be for the summer. Kind of like a camp." The strange man said, placing his hand on my shoulder. I instinctively kicked his gut and he backed off. "Miss Willis," a small women came up to me. "You're coming whether you want to or not, honestly. We don't want to have to inject the drugs into you." She glared at me, daring me to object.

Challenge accepted. I nodded, pretending to walk to the car. Before getting in, I grabbed the women's gun with reflexes my dad would've been proud of. I hold the gun up to my head, right near my eye, like the girl in my dream does. My finger rests on the trigger.

Four pairs of eyes stare at me.


	15. Drugs

"What do you remember after you held the gun, Leslie?" Anna asked. Anna was a pretty woman, probably in her late twenties. She rested her head in her hands, waiting patiently for me to answer. I still felt dreary and was a bit... off... from the drugs. "Can... can you..." I rubbed my forehead.

"Do you want me to get you some water, Leslie?" Anna's voice was soft, smooth, like a calm ocean. I liked how she said my name after every sentence, so I was always sure she was always talking to me. I was her project at the moment. I nodded, "yeah."

Anna got up, leaving the room and going down the hallway. I wanted to get out of the comfy chair and run, find an escape, but my limbs felt like rubber from the drugs, and I was tired. I had no money anyways, and I'm pretty sure my mom's house was fairly far away.

Anna came back a couple minutes later holding a plastic cup filled to the brim with water. I took it, mumbling "thank you" and carefully sipping some, trying not to spill anything over the polished and shiny hardwood floors.

"I just remember people staring, and someone tried to talk to me." My voice was clearer now, and I could focus better after inhaling the rest of the cold water. "I... then I dropped the gun and..."


	16. Names

Everyone had nicknames here. I didn't know people's real names, to be honest. There was Bloody Cupcakes, Bubbles, Duckie, Silent Sally, Red, Matches, and Coon. Anna was called Anna Gabbles, a spoof of Anne of Green Gables or whatever the heck that book is. The doctor that came every week was called Ghost Doc. He was darn pale. I didn't have a nickname yet. I suppose that was expected, sort of, seeing how no one had seen me yet. All they knew was that someone different and new was going the club.

It was around 6 AM, and I had just finished talking to Anna. She told me all the nicknames, who was who, blah blah blah. She helped me put my clothes away in my new room, which was about the size of a full sized bathroom. There was a twin bed, not in awesome conditions, but still nice, with white sheets and covers. Anna rubbed my shoulder. "It isn't really that bad, Willis." I nodded subconsciously, ready to run at any moment.


	17. Slender

"Alright, this is L-" Anna started. "Slender! That's her name. Slender." A boy with black hair and fire-orange tips at the bottom. I was confused for a second before realizing my shirt had Slender on it. I felt my cheeks redden with some sort of weird happiness.

"Slender. This is Slender." Everyone could tell Anna didn't know who Slender was, but they cheered. I grinned like an idiot.


	18. More Names

Everyone went around, sitting in a circle, saying their names. A girl with dark maroon hair went first. "My name's Red. Should be easy to remember." She blew a bubble with her gum, letting it pop loudly. Anna glared at her, and Red spit her gum out in the trash.

The second person was the guy who chose my nickname.

"Matches, nice to meet you." His voice was sincere, and he smiled at me. I smiled back. "'Ey."

Bubbles was small for a teen, he had blonde hair, and on his cheek he had a tattoo of a couple bubbles. It actually looked pretty cool, going all the way up to his eye.

Bloody Cupcakes explained her name to me. "I used to work for a cupcake place. I cut myself in the back room every day, and I saved the blood in a container. I put the blood in one of the cupcakes when we were having a Halloween event." The brunette grinned, pleased with herself.

Silent Sally was mute, apparently. She just looked at me for a bit, then opened her mouth. The front half of her tongue was missing. I let out a breathy "woah," eyes wide. She closed her mouth, satisfied with my reaction.

Duckie was a boy with jet black hair, just like Matches. "Brothers." He said, as if that explained everything, and we moved on.

Coon was a blondie, nearly white hair framing her face. She was pretty, with her fixed jawline and fluorescent green eyes. She smiled at me, and I wondered why she was here. "Hi, Slender. I'm Coon."

I nodded politely, forcing a smile. I didn't like it here already. I got a nickname a couple 10 minutes ago, so the excitement wore off. I had met everyone. I was completely unpacked.

Now I was just in this strange new world.


	19. Pity Party

I threw the sheet over my head, wishing more then anything to wallow in self pity and sob my eyes out. I'd been here for three days and I hated it.


	20. Month

It's been a month.

Exactly a month.

Honestly, I'm scared.


	21. Mike

Matches and Duckie were having a conversation in the far side of the room, Bubbles was sitting on the chase, treading Treasure Island, one of the few approved books in the building. Coon and BC were sitting on the fluffy rug, talking. Red was in a session with Anna, and I was sitting under a blanket, trying to rip my fingernails off. I winced, drawing a bit of blood after yanking on a loose end of my nail. Suddenly the blanket was ripped off my head.

"Hey Slen."

Darn you Matches.

Darn you.

"What's up?" He asks, all casual, looking at my bleeding finger. "Nothing," I mumble, quickly hiding my bleeding index infer with my other arm. Matches smiled at me. "Let's go to my room, eh?"

I panicked, and I panicked hard. "Wh-why?" His cheeks turned a soft pink as he grabbed my hand, dragging me to his room. He sat me down on his bed. "I wanna show you something."

"Y-yeah?" I still didn't feel comfortable in his room.

Until he dropped three pieces of cut glass in my hand. Matches sat next to me, leaning against my arm. I ran my thumb over the smooth parts, then over the sharp edges. I grinned, "thank you, M." I realized he was rubbing my thigh with his hand in calming patterns, and I let myself be touched. It didn't feel bad. I swallowed. "Wouldn't we get in trouble if they find them?"

He nodded. "It's worth it, and you know that too." I looked up at him, and he tucked my hair behind my ear. His skin was cold. Freezing cold, different against my sweating body under my thick Jane the Killer sweatshirt. Matches smiled at me, keeping his hand on my cheek lightly. My eyes darted over him, trying to to show how scared I was. Nobody had touched me like this in a long time. "Are you okay?" He leaned in, just enough that I could feel his breath on my chapped lips. I gripped my bed covers tightly, waves of anxiety crashing over me- but I nodded. "You're stunning, Slender. Your beautiful eyes, they... ah..." he grinned.

"Leslie, you're a gorgeous girl. You're eyes, with those, you'll have to get someone to protect you from all the jealous guys." I smiled, then glared. "Not that you couldn't defend yourself, I'm sure." James laughed, giving my hand a tight squeeze before we kept walking.*

"M-Matches..." I shook, vision getting blurry. "Mike, Slender. My name's Mike, call me that when we're alone, please?" He asked, smiling, running his thumb across my eye gently and flicking some of the salty water away. I pulled away, wiping my eyes, making darker pools

of red on my sleeve from the water.

He scoots closer, leaning on me, pushing me back against his bed. "C'mon, Slender, it ain't that bad." A dark haze full of lust overcomes his eyes, and I swallow hard, taking a sharp inhale. "I--I really, Matches..."

"Mike." He scowled, and I drew silent, scared but never letting it show. People eat on you through your emotions. "Get off of me, Mike." I shoved him aside, getting off his bed and standing.

He remained seated, eyes still on me. I reached for the door knob. "It's locked from the outside."

"Well open it! Don't you have a key or something!" I yelled, ready to break the door down if I had to. Matches just stared at me. "Hold me, Leslie. I want you to hold me."

"Will you open the door if I do?" Matches nodded. I came over carefully, climbing back onto the bed and holding Mike against me. I started stroking his hair.

"Nobody normal will ever love us." He whispered.


	22. Silence

Matches kept true to his word, and he opened the door for me. "Thank you," he mumbled, eyes on the floor, cheeks red. I rolled my eyes, done playing his game. I left, slamming the door behind me. I had been holding and talking to him for almost an hour, I realized. It was time for another bland dinner. I went to the dining room, and Matches came a few minutes later. Everyone was already seated, eating their food. Red's eyes were puffy, and I assumed she'd been crying in Anna's office again. She cried everyday. Red was in the room next to mine, snd through the thin walls I'd hear her broken and choppy sobs. Sometimes I could hear her throwing up. She always stopped around one in the morning, and I would lay awake for the rest of the night.

Red had been here the longest, I was pretty sure.

Tonight, Red was stuffing her face full of food, which was odd, because normally she didn't eat much. I took a seat next to her, and Matches sat across from me. We ate in silence, accept for the couple burps from Duckie, and the complaints about Duckie from Coon. Normally BC was super talkative, but tonight she was quiet, poking at her food. Even Bubbles was quiet.

There was a heavy air around us. We knew something was going to happen. It's kind of like we were communicating by telepathic messages, because it seemed like everyone knew what was going on.


	23. Red

Red smashed her cup.

Red fruit juice spilled across the table.

Red gathered the shards up quickly, then dropped them in her mouth like a bunch of pills.

Nobody moved.

Everyone looked at her, and she smiled at us. We went back to eating.

Fruit juice wasn't the only red on the floor now.


	24. I Think

My door opened.

"Slen?" I felt a hand on my shoulder, and Matches breath was hot against my ear. "Have you ever slept with someone?" I didn't respond, and Matches nuzzled his head into the crook of my neck. He left a trail of kisses on my neck and shoulder. "Mike, please, get out." It felt nice, but I didn't want Matches like that...

"What's your name, Slen? I told you mine." He said quietly against my neck. "Leslie," I mumbled, "Leslie Willis." I hadn't said my name out loud for a while.

I remembered who I was.

What I did to myself.

How much a hated being myself.

"That's such a beautiful name... suits you well." He whispered, pressing his smooth lips back onto my neck.

"What do you want, Mike?" I asked him. "You." He responded simply- I was still confused.

"Why?"

"I think I love you, Leslie Willis."


	25. Silent Sally

_Child's Play_

 _Chapter 25_

 _Silent Sally_

10 days till I leave. I smiled to myself, my cheeks straining from the unfamiliar motion.

Silent Sally stepped into my room.

My smile was gone as quick as it came. "Hi, Sally." I mumbled. She grabbed a paper off my desk, writing around a scribbled out drawing of the blue-haired girl that kept visiting me in my dreams.

What'd Matches do to you?

I gulped. "Er... well..."

She handed me the paper and the pencil she had brought. I held it for a second before I understood.

She wanted me to write it down.

I used my leg as a table, not caring that my handwriting looked like shit on the bumpy surface.

Rape

Sally frowned, writing. _I'm sorry. I can choke him for you. Matches can be an ass sometimes._

I sighed, waving it off. "Thanks, Sally. But it's okay."

It's really not okay.


	26. Job

Child's Play

Chapter Twenty-Six

"Anna?" I asked quietly, staring at my hands.

"Yeah?" She answered, leaning forward to be able to hear me.

"How do I get a job?" I murmured.

Anna smiled. "What type of job?"

"I... a... I wanna work somewhere nice. Somewhere I can wear long sleeves and pants."

Anna nodded but went into motivational mode anyways. "You don't have to cover up your scars, Leslie. They're... reminders of what you've been through. What you survived."

I didn't say anything, so Anna went on. "Where'd your dad work?" I shrugged. "I dunno. He didn't talk to me about his outside life."

"What about your mom?"

"Mmm..." I racked my brain. "Cat Incorporated or something like that."

"Cat Co?"

I nodded. "Yeah, that's it."

"Why don't you try getting a job there?"

"She had to wear like, dresses... and stuff."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. Why don't you just go and check it out?"

I bit my lip. "O-okay."

I didn't know how to get a freaking job!

"Ready to go to bed now?"

I mumbled "good night" and walked out, going to my room for the last time. I changed in my closet.

I didn't change in the open, even if my door was closed. Not anymore.

After I got my PJs on, I crawled into the house's bed, turning off the house's light off, ignoring the pain from my scars as I fell asleep.

I looked in the mirror.

It was blurry, disfigured, but I knew my reflection.

Actually... it wasn't mine.

It was her's.

I felt something on my shoulder. I looked behind me. No one- just a fog.

The electricity cracked and flickered in the back of the hospital room lights.

"Hello?" I called, sinking down to the floor. I didn't want to be here. I wanted to be in my house! With people I knew! I didn't care if they're a sex addict and a drunk or a drug dealer and a horrible father. I knew them. I lived with them.

The mirror shattered, and blood dropped off the cut pieces. All my cuts started opening again.

Was I bleeding out?

I didn't see the blood, just the blood on the glass.

The mirror frame dropped over, and the blue haired woman was behind it. He extended her hand to me. "You'll be fine."

"Who are you?" I asked, probably for the billionth time.

"You, Leslie. I'm Leslie Willis. I'm Livewire," is what she always answered. I wanted to believe her, I really did.

Then the glass became red, and I fell backwards.


End file.
